


My peculiar Muse

by CrimsonShades



Series: Ford's peculiar muse [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: But that doesn't really matter, Human!Bill, I will not have your complaints, I'm Serious, If you can't deal with this kind of fluff, M/M, Smut, Vanilla warning, Workplace Sex, also sort of emotional manipulation, does it make this safe for work?, get out, sex on a desk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:12:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5565097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonShades/pseuds/CrimsonShades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford's life would be so much easier if he could just split up.<br/>On the one hand, Bill wants him to pour his all into the making of the portal. On the other, he wants his labor of love to pour something else entirely someplace else...</p>
            </blockquote>





	My peculiar Muse

**Author's Note:**

> Have I done every popular ship with Bill Cipher at least once now?  
> Yes?  
> *Life goal accomplished*

Stanford had made many mistakes in his young life.

Letting his brother ruin his dreams of a high education was certainly topping the list, but one more mistake was quickly catching up to it.

Fiddleford had left the house to do some grocery shopping, a task Stanford recently found himself too scatterbrained to accomplish, so he should have expected to see the familiar yellow figure position himself between the stacks of paper on the desk the six-fingered man was walking past. His trail of thought which was essentially just formulating the notes he hoped to scribble into the Journal in his arms - he'd originally planned to do that on his desk, but that was clearly no longer an option - when a gloved hand gripped his collar and pulled him close enough for the muse to snake his other arm around Stanford's waist.

"Aren't you such a busy bee." Bill sing-songed, a wide grin lighting up his features.

Stanford found himself being pulled closer to the creature that left him so utterly stunned and speechless, felt the words leave him as his brain dried up and his face flushed crimson.

He had only himself to blame for this. Giving Bill a physical form besides his own body had been his idea, the muse had simply suggested using the portal's energy for this feat. The scientist's curiosity had been peaked and, feeling the watchful eye of his noncorporeal friend in his back, he had tapped into the infinite power lying behind this punched hole through dimensions. He hadn't told Fiddleford about this, since he hadn't told the man much about Bill at all. He had a feeling Fids wouldn't approve of it, but Stanford wanted his friend to gain a body of his own so, so badly.

Maybe then he and Fiddleford could meet, be formally introduced to one another and even get along. This was Ford's dream and it drove him to go on, reach into the bright light and pull a body out of the sparking portal.

As the otherworldy light slowly faded, his dark eyes were drawn to the exotic-looking, strangely humanoid being lying there. He felt his heart pound against his ribs and it picked up the pace even more when the man beside him opened his golden eyes and smiled at him, asking: "How do you like me now, Sixer?"

 

Bill was a peculiar muse. Nothing like anything Ford thought he knew about them. Now that he had a body of his own, it was getting gradually harder to hide him from Fiddleford. Ford just didn't feel that it was the right time to introduce the two of them, not yet. The muse seemed to be alright with this and quickly turned this into a game. He kept on running around Ford's house and explore every room like it held a new adventure, despite the being being so old and wise and _he'd probably definitely seen a hairbrush before, right?_

He managed to keep Bill occupied in his room with books - or he let him correct his Journals. It was hard keeping such a quick thinker occupied for long. It was weird for Fiddleford that his partner kept leaving for extended bathroom breaks and returned, looking completely disheveled. It was hard for Ford, because Bill was making it downright impossible to focus. He constantly required attention or entertainment of some sort and whenever Ford got too close to the peculiar muse, he found himself pulled into an embrace against the hot, _much hotter than any human being should feel, or was that just his racing pulse_ body and it took him several minutes to work up the strength to escape the sensually-deprived Bill.

Such a hungry muse. So greedy, too.

There were so many things to feel, he claimed and as much as Ford would love to just help the other explore his delicious body all day long, there was work to do.

 

"The portal won't finish itself." Ford stuttered as the gloved hand flipped his collar up. The look on Bill's face told him that he'd either said something wrong, or the muse was painfully aware of this fact, or both.

But the pout was only short-lived, much to the scientist's dismay. 

"I'm sure you can take at least a little break." His muse purred and the man shuddered as he felt the other hand slip into his pants and squeeze his left buttock.

"I- I"

"You've been so hard at work, after all." Slender fingers sliding across his cheek, driving his glasses up and crooked. Ford was gasping for breath. "And I'm really, _really_ proud of you."

He loved the flattery, the praise and he allowed himself to indulge in it for a few seconds only to find that a few seconds were everything the muse needed to pull him into his arms. Lips were brushing against his neck and Ford swallowed as he realized his pants were growing too restricted for him to bear for much longer.

"Fiddleford isn't here." It served as a remainder to no one in particular, just a thought that shot through his brain and while it was muttered breathlessly and without volume, the muse perked up. His pointed smile sent shivers down the scientist's spine.

" _Gooood!_ That means I can give my favorite little nerd a reward for working so well."

_I have work to do, Bill, please. I can't slack off any more than I already am, I'm sorry._

Ford wanted to say it, but just as he took a breath, the muse slammed their lips together. Fingers ran through brown hair, fingers slipped into his underwear, heat was leeching through his sweater and a hot tongue was sweeping against his.

There was no way Ford could say no.

Trembling, six-fingered hands made quick work of Bill's pants and rode the borrowed shirt up the slender frame, all without breaking the kiss. The muse made a few approving noises and eagerly tilted his hips up as Ford struggled to unbuckle his own, now hindering pants.

Bill tore away from him with a hiss and Ford could have sworn to hear fabric ripping when finally, air hit his thighs, jeans pooled at his angles and the other male tugged at his boxers with a teasing smile.

Stanford opened his mouth to word a question, he hadn't even figure out what to say, when fingers were removed and rubber bit into his skin.

The look on Bill's face asked for punishment and while Ford never really considered himself to be much on the sadomasochistic side, he would've done anything to please his muse.

He pulled his underwear down and revealed his bobbing hard-on, relished the faux shocked expression Bill showed off at the sight and bit into the man's neck.

There was a moan, a loud moan, the main reason they couldn't really do this with Fiddleford around or at least awake, legs wrapped around Ford's waist and pulled him closer to the starved muse. He gripped the other's hips with his six-fingered hands, felt a grin against his cheek and plunged into the otherwordly being.

It was like a dream. It always was.

It was hot and tight and too good for words. Bill's blood in his mouth was sweet, his moans rang even sweeter in his ears, gloved fingers bit into his back, he felt the sting of blood being exposed to air as skin tore, but the bronze skin against his mouth muffled his ragged screams.

Bill's heat was everywhere, his own member rubbed against Ford's stomach at the frail body was violently shaken by the sturdier man's thrusts and pounds into him. At first, he had been worried to hurt the other - alright, fine, at first he had spilled his load all over the muse over a few simple touches, since it had essentially been his first time with anyone but himself and a being from another dimension probably felt a lot better than any human being possibly could. But then, after a few times, when they had gotten the hang of it and even managed to work out a rhythm, he explained to Bill that he didn't want to hurt him. It earned him a laugh and a pat to the cheek.

After that, Ford managed to quell his fear of damaging his beloved muse and instead, fucked him senseless, the way he knew the other liked. And he found himself gradually enjoying pouding the wind out of such a powerful being with such frequency. He loved the mewling, he loved the writhing, he loved the way Bill clung to him when he came. He loved Bill.

 

The sound of sheets of paper falling to the ground barely registered, neither did the constant creaking of the old desk. The only thing that mattered were the obscenely loud screams of the other man. As he noticed a familiar tugging in his guts, however, he slowed to a stop.

While noticing his own labored breaths, Ford smiled at the way Bill's face was glistening with sweat, his cheeks were flushed, his golden hair was disheveled. He loved how his muse looked during sex.

Sadly, the muse didn't much approve of these kinds of breaks, as his eyes slowly blinked open and the pupils, usually blown wide with lust, constricted again. A low growl made the air in the entire room vibrate, but Ford took his time, brushing a golden strand out of Bill's face and smiling at him.

"You're beautiful." He said plainly.

Bill blinked a few times and furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to figure out what to make of the compliment. Clearly, his brain was still all over the place.

"And I'm the luckiest man on the planet to have you here." Ford poured all of his honestly, all of his, as he was sure by now was love, into the statement.

Bill opened his mouth and closed it again, the gears in his head clearly running hot, but Ford wasn't worried. He knew. He just knew.

And he welcomed the muse's tongue in his mouth as the being leaned in for a kiss that undoubtedly meant something.

It meant everything to Ford.

It would take him much longer to find out that it truly meant nothing to Bill. And it would take him even longer to accept that.

But for now, he began moving again, which earned him an approving hum and a playful nip to his lips.

It took him only a short amount of time to have the muse riled up and writhing again. He tasted the delicious little moans Bill poured into his mouth and swallowed the scream that accompanied his lover hitting his orgasm and spilling his hot, hot seed over Ford's stomach. He rubbed his muse's back as Bill reluctantly  pulled away to give into his lungs' desire to be filled with air again. His eyes lidded and he groaned a few times, not disapleased, as Ford gently, gently, pumped in an out of him a few more times until he felt his essence pour out of him and into the sated muse.

After their first time, Bill had jumped up, laughed and thanked him for the offer of bodily fluid, which had Ford nothing less than puzzled.

Now, he leaned in to plant a few gentle kisses to the man's lips, which Ford tiredly returned.

Bill chuckled softly as he tugged at his nerd's disheveled clothes to fix him up, at least a little, but stopped as he heard the sound of a key being turned around in a lock and the front door upstairs being opened.

"Break's over, back to work." He whispered into Ford's ears as he cradled his head in his hands, before dropping it on his desk. The tired man mumbled something aking to "Five more minutes" under his breath, Bill tucked him in, to avoid Fids, who wasn't too bright, but not an idiot either, to piece their little pass times together and end the fun, ruffled through his human's hair and zipped out of the room.

Maybe a minute later, Ford was torn out of his post-orgasm exhaustion as the door to his lab opened and a confused Fiddleford stared him down before silently placing a bottle of pills on the desk next to his disheveled head.

 

One of these days, he'd have to come up with a better lie than disgestive problems to explain his constant absences. Especially now, that his worried partner had gotten him some medication to deal with just that.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you miss me? Aaaadmit it, you've missed me!


End file.
